


Four seasons, one love

by nenuphar



Category: Arashi (Band), Japanese actors
Genre: AU, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-07
Updated: 2012-08-07
Packaged: 2017-11-11 15:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nenuphar/pseuds/nenuphar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a composer and she is a fashion designer. He doesn't know the word "clean" and she loves when everything has its own place. She loves Vivaldi and he loves noise. They are neighbors and the walls are thin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four seasons, one love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Arashi Debut Anniversary Meme. For this prompt:
> 
> "He is a composer and she is a fashion designer. He is 28 and she is 22. He loves playing games until late at night and she loves listening to Vivaldi until 10PM. He doesn't know the word "clean" and she loves when everything has its own place. They are neighbors and the walls are thin. The usual neighbor-thing-ness and bitchiness and sweetness and awkwardness and other noun-ness"

**Spring**

“I'll be okay, mom. I'm a big girl now, remember? Yes, I'll eat my vegetables. No, I won't fall in love with a tall handsome stranger. I love you too. Goodnight!” 

Riisa sighed. Having a mom who was so overprotective was sort of sweet and sort of annoying at the same time. Still, she wouldn't trade her for the world. When things with Toma hadn't worked out, Riisa had moved back in with her mother until she finished her fashion degree and the two of them had gotten on surprisingly well. Maybe that's why her mother took it so hard now that Riisa had moved to the Big Apple. She made a mental note to call her mom and keep her promises. She had to take care of what she ate anyway. People at the House of Gaga surely wouldn't hire a designer who couldn't fit into her own clothes. 

Ah, the house of Gaga. She was excited already. Riisa looked through her portfolio for the nth time. Her designs were a bit outrageous, she'd been told, but no matter how chaotic the clothes seemed to be, her tailoring and workmanship were always exquisite. There wasn't a line that she hadn't traced properly, not a button that might be loose or not in line with the others. 

Everything will be alright, she thought. Everything was prepared. She had even managed to unpack all her stuff and decorate her new flat. There was nothing left to do but go to bed. After one last look over her new home, Riisa smiled contentedly and went to sleep. 

Or so she thought. Not a minute after her head hit the pillow, she heard a noise. Make that two noises. No, make that a mind-blowing cacophony of sounds that were invading her apartment. Boom. Bang. Boom Boom Bang. Riisa could almost feel the bass instead of just hearing it. It was all over her, around her and it was coming from the wall next to her bed! 

She knocked on the walls. It was night, for heaven's sake! Well, 9.30 pm, but still! PEOPLE HAD TO WORK. She shouted. To no avail, the very noise that had woken her was too loud to let her shouting be heard over the stomping of basses and whatever else that was.  
Riisa blinked. There was no way, she'd be tired on her job interview tomorrow. NO WAY. 

Furiously, she opened drawers and boxes, went through her medicine cabinet and her bedside table. Finally she found it: a pack of the super sound blocking earplugs, her mum had insisted she'd bring to this new, noisy city of hers. “Thanks, mom!” With a triumphant look at the wall she returned to bed. Ha! She wouldn't be defeated that easily.

When she finally woke up the next morning, she realized it wasn't morning at all. The sun that was streaming through the windows illuminated her alarm clock. 10:49. 10:49. 10:49!! She hadn't heard her alarm go off! With barely eleven minutes to get to her interview, Riisa didn't waste time on breakfast or make-up (or a shower), instead she just tumbled into her jogging shoes, grabbed her portfolio and ran out of the door. Just when she passed her neighbor's door, she stopped. 

“I HATE YOU!” she yelled. There! Hopefully, he'd lose just a little sleep over that! Asshole!  
And then she was off. Gaga didn't like to wait.

 

**Summer**

“I don't need a new set of blankets, mom. It's too hot here! I could use a bigger fridge, not blankets. No, mom! Don't buy me a fridge. I'm alright really. Yes, I'll tell you when I need anything. And when I meet somebody. Yes. Love you mom. Byyyeee.”

Riisa sighed. The heat was killing her. Just the thought of leaving her apartment with its nice AC was horrifying. And meeting somebody…it was weird, she never really felt like meeting someone. This city was so busy and she was working so much, that she didn't want to go anywhere after she finally came home in the evening. She had met her neighbor, but that didn't count. After her almost-nightmare at her first day in the city, she had written him a note on the door to inform him that loud noises weren't “cool” as far as she was concerned and had attached her work schedule, so that he wouldn't think she was unreasonable. He could play music as long as he wanted, she had written, as long as she didn't have to listen it. 

Unfortunately, he had left a note on her door, telling her that his schedule didn't fit hers and if she had no taste in music, he'd gladly sponsor her some earplugs. 

They had continued this sort of note exchange for a while, with a growing number of exclamation marks and thinly veiled accusations of being either a ruthless egoist or a deaf spinster. 

Riisa blushed a little when she thought of the last time she had pinned a note on his door and had suddenly come face to face with her opponent. At least, he had been surprised at well and Riisa had grinned when she saw the note in his hand. Gotcha. She thought. It had been awkward but at least they knew each other's faces now and their notes had taken on a little more personal note. Since she'd learned that "Nino" wrote music for a living, Riisa felt a little less annoyed at the constant noise invasion but she still wrote messages to remind him of important dates. He usually relented and toned it down, at least. 

“Dear Riisa,” her latest note said, “I'd like to inform you about another session of "abominable noise creation" tonight. Enclosed you'll find the usual preparatory utensils. Be strong! – Nino” He had added a little package of earplugs, and another package with fresh breath mints. He was random like that.She smiled and grabbed her pen.

“Dearest Nino, thank you for adding another set of plugs to my growing collection. Maybe this one will finally be able to do the trick. – Riisa. P.S. I liked your tie, you should wear yellow more often.”

 

**Autumn**

 

“Mooom. I'm fine; I don't need you to send me a pumpkin. They sell them here, too. And anyway I won't be carving anything this Halloween. I'm too old for…yes, I still like candy. You can send me candy. Yes, love you Mom! Bye-bye!” 

That wasn't a lie, was it? She didn't intend to carve the pumpkin, just cut it and cook it. Riisa thought while browsing recipes. Nino had just dropped this thing on her doorstep, with a note that said “pumpkin time!” and somehow she hadn't thought of returning it. 

There was a knock on the door and then Nino stepped in. They'd given up on the notes now and just walked in and out of their apartments as they pleased. Exchanging keys had just seemed natural after weeks of awkward knocking and waiting in the hallway. Plus, it was just a good safety net to have someone who could come to help you, in case of emergencies! You could never be too safe.

“Should I bring red wine or white wine?”

“For what?”, Riisa was confused.

“The soup you're cooking for me. And I was thinking a movie? My place?”

“What? I won't set a foot in that garbage bin, Nino. And why should I come to your place if I'm cooking? And why am I cooking soup for you anyway…”

“Here then.” Nino interrupted with a grin. “Great. Red wine? Ah, never mind. I'll bring whiskey.” And then he turned to leave again.

“Oh, before I forget: I'll have to finish this bit of music. You don't mind, do you? While you're cooking anyway…” he said before ducking out of sight.

Men! Give them a little finger and they'll take the entire arm!

 

**Winter**

“You've reached the answering machine of Naka Riisa. Please leave a message after the beep. And mom, I'll call you back this time, I promise.”

Christmas meant cookies and carols and whatnot for normal people. For Riisa it meant stitching pearls and petals onto a giant foam ball that would hopefully fit the rest of the dress Gaga had decided to wear for her "private little party".

“Ouch!” 

– “Did you cut yourself again?” 

“You could show a little compassion, you know.” Nino pouted. 

He was sitting on her couch, trying to sort the various crystal stars that would need to be glued onto the corset later. When she had told him about her latest project, he had volunteered right away. His work for the year was done and his usual plans, ordering take-out and playing WoW, could wait till she was finished.

“Compassion? You're one to talk. How many years have I aged since you subjected me to your constant noising?”

“It's music and I'm leaving if you're not a bit nicer!” he threatened.

“You big baby!” she smiled and turned to him. He looked at her in theatrically fake hurt. “Come here, I'll make it all better!” she leaned into him and placed a small kiss on the top of his nose.  
“There. Consider it a first installment of your pay. The rest is for when you're done!” She grinned.

One year had gone by and Riisa had kept her promises to her mom. She was a big girl and took care of herself. She ate her vegetables and Nino wasn't a _tall_ handsome stranger, after all.


End file.
